


Haunted

by DenebYL



Category: Mana Khemia: Alchemists of Al-Revis, アトリエ | Atelier & Related Fandoms
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I just felt like doing it, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 18:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenebYL/pseuds/DenebYL
Summary: Roxis thinks about Vayne on graduation.*Follows the bad ending, where Roxis failed to convince Vayne*





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> i miss mana khemia so much like hello hey sumimasen @ feelings but what the actual fkn
> 
> also i'm back to posting like there's no tomorrow what's up people i was gone for around 3 weeks and i missed myself being out there posting stuff

For Roxis Rosenkrantz, the thought of freedom on a spring years from now is something to look forward to.

He would stay quiet, lay low, and gather achievements left and right.

He would talk only when necessary, and only engage in events that are beneficial to him, befitting the situation.

And yet on that exact spring, he finds himself in front of the school building.

He stood on the cobblestone path, blond hair swayed by the wind akin to how bright streaks of white painted the skies.  
He watched the leaves fall, brushing against the winds and having lost – now sentenced to a fate of nothingness. Far from sustenance, far from death.

Roxis thought that he had seen a sliver of silver pique his interest from the crowd, but it was only a few seconds until he realised that it did not belong to who he seeks.

In quiet moments of his own solitude, he thinks he is haunted by the ghost-like figure of Vayne, though it was but a shadow – a memory of what once was.  
In quiet moments of his own solitude, he found himself trying to quell the memories that had resurfaced – when he tried to reach out to Vayne, only to be turned away with a smile.

He sighs, and wonders when the hauntings will stop

He reprimanded himself for wishful thinking – the thought that once he steps out of the school, all of this will cease.

Because he knew that the littlest things could remind him of Vayne – but he wonders how they would all come back?

Would it be just like stormy waves, all at once, washing away all that stands in its way no matter how stalwart?  
Or would it be just like the calm and quiet desert sands, trickling down one after another, small in numbers but eventually sure to drown out what lies under?

All that he knew for sure is that if he was ever to come back to Al-Revis, they would all come back.

For Al-Revis is haunted. If not to anyone else, it is to him.

He thought that perhaps it had always been haunted, and it was that simply no one took notice.

Its stone floors confused, tending to deaths and lives taken, the blood of those gone unseen but present.  
Its gardens dappled, plants wilted and broken, a testament as to what happens when humanity is given far too much power.  
Its windows broken and shattered, attempting to gaze upon the sight beyond now impossible.

He wondered if perhaps these are only glimpses to a soul - their last moments. He wondered if he is even worthy of being able to continue to see, to continue to wander around these archaic, troubled halls…

He wondered if the time that he had spent with the silver-haired youth was all for nothing, now that the other is no longer.

The time that they had spent behind a curtain of red, he wondered if the way that Vayne liked to adore the stream of light that shines through the crevices was the universe’s attempt of foreshadowing – how he could only be a witness to light, and not of it.  
The time that they had spent by a cauldron accommodating various concoctions, he wondered if the way Vayne was extremely attuned to artificial, pre-made ingredients was the universe’s attempt at telling him where he was from – that he was just like those materials.  
The time that they had spent walking around the courtyard under the watching eyes of Orion, he wondered if the way that Vayne enjoyed the twinkling of the stars was some sort of message from the universe that this was his only chance at life – so that it was important for him to enjoy even the smallest things.

He shifted his weight, from one foot to another, and turned to watch a now dispersing crowd. Some shaking their heads, some lost in laughter, and some far from Roxis’ scrutinising eyes.

Roxis thinks about the many times that he had his back turned to Vayne.

Roxis thinks about the many times that he had ignored Vayne’s calls.

Roxis thinks about the times that he had done nothing but sit down, and the times that he had been unwelcome.

And Roxis thinks about how Vayne had always been open and welcoming, and he started thinking about how different things would have been should he have done the same.

Perhaps sometime during the one time that the bells have rung, during the one time that laughters have started to echo, or even during the one time that murmurs have managed to reach his ears, whereas each of them marked a new day for Vayne, it was the same old blurry one for Roxis.

Yet it wasn’t easy for him – Roxis objected to his own thoughts.

It wasn’t easy to quell jealousy, to quell anger, to quell disappointment that he had worked all his life to be the best, to be for the best, and yet a no-name had appeared and turned out to be better.

It wasn’t easy, he mumbled to himself again and again, and again.

Under the bright sun, clear cyan blue or clouded greyed skies, he mumbled.  
Under the pitter-patters of rain, drizzle or torrential, he mumbled.  
Under the watchful and patient sunset, bittersweet or glowing, he mumbled.

It wasn’t easy. Not with what he had to pursue.

He was suddenly pulled away from his thoughts by a familiar, boisterous yell of his name, and a wave from a familiar crowd of people.

He shakes his head, ridding himself of his thoughts, saving it for another time, and shook off the feeling of chains from where he stood.

Although he was headed towards a wonderful circle of familiar faces, resting together by a bed of wonderful, brightly coloured and vivid flowers, he could not quite wash away the traces of lingering guilt in his mind - it was dark and faceless, nothing but gloomy clouds and greyed, barren soil.

For Roxis Rosenkrantz, the thought of freedom on the spring of this year weighs a little heavy on his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> i havent played mk in ages but hear me out  
> hear me out
> 
> roxis.
> 
> thanks for coming to my ted talk.


End file.
